that they can understand, if something is wanted for to-day, which have at the same time a life that will never be outgrown.  There are poems with two aspects, one of which is acceptable to a child and the other to the grown-up mind; these, one is glad to find in anthologies for children.  But there are many poems about children of which the interest is so subtle as to be quite unsuitable for their collection.  Such a poem is “We are seven.”  Children can be taught to say it, even with feeling, but their own genuine impression of it seems to be that the little girl was rather weak in intellect for eight years old, or a little perverse.  Whereas Browning’s “An incident of the French camp” appeals to them by pride of courage as it does to us by pathos.  It may not be a gem, poetically speaking, but it lives.  As children grow older it is only fair to allow them some choice in what they learn and recite, to give room for their taste to follow its own bent; there are a few things which it is well that every one should know by heart, but beyond these the field is practically without limits.

Perfect recitation or reading aloud is very rare and difficult to acquire.  For a few years there was a tendency to over-emphasis in both, and, in recitation, to teach gesture, for which as a nation we are singularly inapt.  This is happily disappearing, simplicity and restraint are regaining their own, at least in the best teaching for girls.  As to reading aloud to children it begins to be recognized that it should not be too explicit, nor too emphatic, nor too pointed; that it must leave something for the natural grace of the listener’s intelligence to supply and to feel.  There is a didactic tone in reading which says, “you are most unintelligent, but listen to ME and there may yet be hope that you will understand.”  This leaves the “poor creatures” of the class still unmoved and unenlightened; “the child is not awakened,” while the more sensitive minds are irritated; they can feel it as an impertinence without quite knowing why they are hurt.  It is a question of manners and consideration which is perceptible to them, for they like what is best—­sympathy and suggestiveness rather than hammering in.  They can help each other by their simple insight into these things when they read aloud, and if a reading lesson in class is conducted as an exercise in criticism it is full of interest.  The frank good-nature and gravity of twelve-year-old critics makes their operations quite painless, and they are accepted with equal good humour and gravity, no one wasting any emotion and a great deal of good sense being exchanged.